


I've Got Rigor Mortis For You

by Zeath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dead Peter, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Guilt, M/M, NSFW, Necrophilia, Non-Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 22:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14435238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeath/pseuds/Zeath
Summary: He had the power, he was in control of everything and Stiles got off from that. Having a dead body lying in front of you wasn’t all that different from someone sleeping, besides the obvious.Season 1 ending; made better.





	I've Got Rigor Mortis For You

 

“Oh my god, you killed him.” Scott spoke; ever the obvious narrator. Stiles rolled his eyes and pat his best friend’s shoulder, he knew Scott was a bit slow at times so it was best to be patient and wait for the new werewolf to churn his gears until they clicked. Scott turned to Derek then who was still standing over his dead uncle’s body, his stoic face unreadable but Stiles could tell he was mentally asking where the beta was literally five minutes ago when he was throwing Molotov cocktails on Peter with no remorse. “Why did you do that? I could have been cured!”

“You wouldn’t have killed him.” Derek simply states, turning fully and walking past the two teenagers to where Chris and Allison were standing and speaking to them about the remains of the evening, Stiles doesn’t know what he was talking about if he’s honest, he hadn’t paid any attention. He was way too busy staring at Peter’s charred corpse. It was still smoking in places, bits of clothing stuck to him and moulding together with his melted flesh. He couldn’t help the small bubble of arousal in his stomach which he as quick to stunt; he couldn’t get a stiffy in front of a stiffy – he laughed internally about his own joke – not when there were sensitive wolf noses that could notice.

The fact was that Stiles always had a thing for death; from when he was a little boy and a bird had hit his bedroom window beak first, he’d ran downstairs to check on it but the bird had died from the shock of impact. He’d collected it up in his hands and brought it into the kitchen to show his mother and father, who were shocked that their only son was carrying death with intrigue. His dad had taken the bird from him and they gave it a little burial in the garden, not that he understood why, but it was fun to dig a grave.

When Stiles started to go through puberty and found out what his dick was really for, it was easy for him to find porn and delve into the world of online sex that left no stone unturned. He’d gone through many videos of boring amateur pornstars with massive tits and monster cocks and while it was fun at first, after a couple years he got bored and branched out for more. It was amazing how many fetishes were out there, all you had to do was look in the right direction. Stiles got more adventurous, starting out with the odd bondage videos or roleplaying, but it wasn’t enough. He’d search up kinks that would disgust the average person, things that after he came from it, made him want to shower and scrub off his shame and avoid eye contact with everyone for the next few days.

There was a site that he’d found by accident but now was his favorite; it showed real photos of violence and murder, videos of people recording themselves for their suicide note and hanging themselves and it being posted online. It was the real deal; Stiles could tell the difference between the movie magic and actual murder from peeping at his dad’s evidence pictures that he brings home. At first he was appalled that people would post things like this, and that it was popular enough to have its own website. He couldn’t judge for long though since his cock had come to life after scrolling down and taking in the sight of a dead woman lying in a haphazard state, her throat cut and blood soaked through her tank top.

Maybe it was the branch of another kink; Stiles did have a thing for somnophilia, of someone being consensually letting someone have their way with them while they slept. It was the motionlessness of the body, he could position them however he wanted. He could touch and rough them up, or not, he could caress and dress them up to make them pretty. He had the power, he was in control of everything and Stiles got off from that. Having a dead body lying in front of you wasn’t all that different from someone sleeping, besides the obvious. He’d found the fetish was called necrophilia, another loop to his belt. He found it was his go-to thing to get him off within minutes. He’d download videos and pictures onto his computer in a file hidden away under the names of complex algorithms that would turn off anyone who wasn’t purposely looking for them.

So right now with Peter lying dead right in front of him in the blood soaked leaves, was Stiles’ version of pure sex. He was so close to an actual deceased person and felt the adrenaline thrumming through his veins; it may have made it worse knowing the fact that he’d helped murder Peter. His mouth was watering and his cock was attempting to harden whenever he let his guard down, he had to think of his grandmother to get it to stop trying to tent the front of his jeans.

Derek had ceased his conversation with the Argent’s – not that he was paying too much attention either way, but he’d killed his uncle, his only living relative left. He deserved to disassociate for a moment – and left the hunters to deal with Kate’s body. Everything was running through his mind in this moment, his new Alpha status and the rush of power that came with it that he needed to control, and the emotions from being the last Hale alive. He had to bury Peter somewhere that no one would find him, he could do it in the woods deep underground where no sniffer dog could ever catch a scent, or he could drive the body out somewhere and dump it where no one would bother caring. He can always drop Peter in a lake or the ocean, no one would ever find him then, but it didn’t seem like the dignity any Hale had when it came to their deaths, even if his uncle was a psychopath. Just when Derek had decided where he would put the body, Stiles’ hand latched onto his shoulder and spoke as if his opinion mattered. “It’s late, we’re all tired. Why don’t we just bury him in a light grave and come back tomorrow when we can see?”

Derek looked at him as if he’d grown two heads, staring at the hand on his shoulder until Stiles got the point and yanked it off, taking a few steps away from the new Alpha. “To rephrase; let’s do this later, yeah? You don’t want anyone to know where you hid the body right?”

“So go home, I’ll handle this. I can see things fine.” To prove his point, Derek let his eyes shine red and took in the teenager stumble over nothing as he got closer to collect the charred body of his uncle. Only to have that damn grip on his elbow this time, ripping his arm free from the other man and watching Stiles’ hands fly up in a peaceful manner.

“I think even if he was a murderous psycho, he still needs a proper burial. I want to bless him, like. You know, like how my mum would.” It was a risk, lying to an increasingly agitated Alpha but he’d learned that if he remained calm then it would slow enough to not give the uptick that werewolves seek out. Along with the emotion from his mother, and the added sadness that must have wafted into Derek’s nostrils at the teenager’s memory of his mother. The guy had to relate somehow.

Derek stared at him for a moment before shaking his head and storming off into the skeleton of his old house, muttering under his breath that made Scott pale obviously behind able to hear. He didn’t like giving Stiles the satisfaction that his emotions got in the way. The kid somehow knew what was going through his head; wanting to give Peter a burial that, while it wasn’t the best he could get or the dignity that his family’s tomb had, it would still be important to him. If Stiles wanted to bless Peter’s body, then at least it did something to give pride to his family name.

Little did he know that Stiles was just thinking selfishly about being left alone with Peter. He made the excuse to Scott that he should go home with Allison and clear things up with her, knowing that the beta wouldn’t even hesitate to get out of there if it meant he could be with her.

So it was just him and Peter. Alone. Kind of. A shiver went up his spine edging closer to his body as if Peter was going to jump up any minute. Stiles really wanted to touch his skin, feel the heat of his burnt flesh under his fingertips, the lifelessness that was there. Kneeling down next to Peter, Stiles reached out to cup the man’s forehead, gently bring his hand down over Peter’s eyelids until they closed. Fuck, that looked even better. Like the dead wasn’t judging him. 

Stiles saw some movement in the corner of his eye, turning his head to notice Derek going past with a shovel and speaking over his shoulder. He didn’t want the teenager to know where he would be putting the body and kept up pretences about his dislike for the teenager in this moment.  “I’m going to dig a hole. Finish your blessing or what you call it before I come back, or I’m burying you both.”

With that, the Alpha went off into the woods, leaving Stiles fully alone with Peter. Dead Peter. He gulped thickly, knowing it wouldn’t take Derek long to dig after he found the perfect spot. He had to hurry if he was going do any of his fantasies. Unzipping his fly, Stiles pulled his cock out and straddled Peter’s shoulders, rubbing the tip against Peter’s chilled lips. “Oh my god…”

He had to do it. He needed this. Stiles grabbed Peter’s chin and pulled it down so his mouth could open a little, just enough for the teenager to slot his dick inside and holy mother of god it was better than anything he could have imagined. While Peter’s skin was starting to cool down in the night air, his mouth was still slightly warm – the fact that he was overcooked helped tremendously – but completely non-reactive. He could thrust all the way into the back of his lifeless throat and there wouldn’t be any gag reflex to hold him back.

Stiles rolled his hips with a soft moan, fucking Peter’s lifeless mouth. He even went so far as to lean over his body into the leaves with his stomach covering the rest of Peter’s head as he started pumping. He could already feel his orgasm building up, just with the thought that he was getting a blowjob from a dead body.

But he wanted more, so Stiles pulled his cock out of Peter’s mouth and sat up on the dead man’s chest. He turned then, seeking out his prize. The trousers were completely singed from the fire, and Stiles prayed that his dick wasn’t burned too badly that he couldn’t use it. Fiddling with the melted button of his jeans, Stiles practically ripped the front of Peter’s trousers open and shoved his hand inside. It was amazing; thick and still soft with perhaps second degree burns from the feel of it. It wasn’t going to be in rigor mortis for at least a couple of hours but it wouldn’t matter because Peter’s cock was in his hand. He could work with that.

Careful to not ruin the clothing any more than he had, Stiles eased Peter’s cock out and bit his lip to silence his groan of pure want; this was his first time seeing a penis up close and personal that wasn’t his own. No matter how many times he stroked it, Peter wouldn’t get hard and that just made Stiles own cock leak all the more. He needed to know what it felt like in his mouth, _inside_ him. Stiles practically dove down onto Peter’s crotch, and while holding the base to keep it still he sucked the tip of the dead man’s cock into his mouth. He didn’t know what he expected but all Stiles could taste was the coppery taste of burnt flesh and the saltiness of dried sweat that made Stiles moan in delight. He wanted to take it slow but he didn’t know when Derek would come back so he bobbed his head, forcing Peter’s cock deep into his throat and gagging because, hello, this was his first blowjob. Still, what he didn’t have in experience he gained in enthusiasm, practically choking himself on Peter’s soft dick a couple more times before pulling off, a bead of drool escaping his lips and trailing down his chin.

Without further ado, Stiles yanked his trousers and underwear off one of his legs, straddling Peter’s hips and stuffing two of his fingers in his mouth. He watched Peter’s lifeless face while coated the digits with saliva, thinking to himself that this was it, he was going to get himself prepped and then his fantasies would come true. Stiles quickly rubbed the spit slicked fingers around his hole before thrusting them inside; this he was very used to after many years of being single with an active imagination and easy access to porn. He stopped when he felt the appendage brush over his prostate, shuddering and pulling his fingers out.

“Oh god… Okay… Okay.” The teenager had to psyche himself up, spitting into his hand and reaching back to wet Peter’s cock and angle it to his hole. He was going to fuck a dead guy. Not only a dead guy, but a dead, serial killing werewolf with serious psychopathic issues. He was going to do this. “Nice and easy…”

It wasn’t nice and easy. He didn’t know what he thought was going to happen in this moment; maybe the cock to stay in the right position for Stiles to bounce on? Or to have lube to easily wet the way for a more enjoyable time? It certainly wasn’t this.

Peter’s cock was soft, and so it was already difficult to actively push into his ass. That and he had to keep spitting on his hand to wet the dead man’s dick because holy fuck it burned going in partially dry. Stiles wasn’t going to give up though, he came too far to wimp out now so he rolled up his sleeves and forced the tip of Peter’s cock into his hole, biting his lip to stifle any noise while he kept easing inch after inch into his ass. It felt like it took too long for him to finally be seated on Peter’s hips once more, sighing as his inner muscles clenched and throbbed around the dead intrusion. Stiles didn’t want to bounce or even lift off from this position in case the soft cock slipped out and he had to redo all of his hard work, so he simply rocked his body back and forth.

This wasn’t so bad, he could get used to this feeling. It was strange to have something so big yet so _pliable_ inside him, whenever Stiles moved his ass back and forth, Peter’s cock would follow his muscles and rub sweetly over his prostate causing the teenager to only get closer to his climax. It only made it that much hotter with the mantra in Stiles’ head that he was literally sitting on Peter’s lap and getting off on the fact he was deceased. He was fucking a dead person, he was sitting on a dead man’s cock and he was going to fucking cum any second now. “Fuck yes…”

Derek would probably be back any minute; it didn’t take long for a werewolf to dig a grave. So Stiles hurried as much as he could, resting his hands on Peter’s charred chest for stability while grinding his ass down over that thick cock. He was so close, so fucking close. The limp dick inside him rubbed insistently over his sweet spot and lighting sparks behind Stiles’ eyes, his pace struggling to keep its rhythm as he clung onto the edge. The teenager heard a twig snap a few feet away in the woods, the exhibitionistic thrill tinging down his spine of being caught along with the continuous friction on his prostate brought Stiles over the edge with a shudder. Holding his head unconsciously as to not make a sound or he would have surely woken up half the forest with his moan of pure satisfaction. He was smart enough to cum into his shirt so he wouldn’t cover Peter’s body with even more of his scent, it was well worth the uncomfortable cold stickiness against his skin when the cool air got to it.

The waves to bliss washed over him, knowing that he had just fulfilled his darkest fantasy and actually got away with it. Stiles lifted his hips and shivered when Peter’s limp cock slipped out of his ass, flopping onto his chilled thigh. The teenager didn’t have time to reminisce over what just happened, hurrying to stuff Peter’s cock back into the ruined front of his trousers and present the man as if he was left untouched. Stiles didn’t want to stick around, knowing that Derek’s keen new Alpha nose would surely pick up the smell of jizz drying in his shirt, and the waft of one-sided sex in the night air. He allowed himself to bid Peter’s body one last touch, leaning down to peck those cold lips and standing up to situate his own clothes. Getting dressed after fucking wasn’t as great as stripping in the throes of passion as it were.

Stiles grimaced at the feeling of his cum sticking to the hair on his stomach, along with the increasing sense that Derek would be here any second, the teenager moved the fuck away from Peter’s dead body and practically ran to his jeep. He didn’t look back. He didn’t focus on his surroundings in case the Alpha werewolf had indeed come back, and had indeed smelled that his uncle’s body had been defiled. Unlocking his jeep and climbing in, Stiles took a moment to breathe before sticking his key in the ignition and driving away from the scene.

He was about ten minutes away from his house when the actual realization kicked in what he had done. He had sex with a corpse, he was a full blown necrophiliac. It was _illegal_. Fuck, he could go to prison if he was caught. Actually, fuck prison, if Derek found out he would be dead long before the justice system got to him. How could he do that? _Why_ did he do that? Damn his stupid brain for shutting off and letting his dick do all the thinking.

He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to face Derek the same way again. Hell, he doesn’t know if he could ever be _around_ Derek ever again. If he thought the werewolf was scary before, now Stiles had a _reason_ to fear him.

Pulling into his driveway and rushing to get inside, Stiles shut the door behind him a little louder than needed. He would have woken his father up with that slam; thankfully he was on patrol so Stiles could be as loud as he wanted. He ran up the stairs and tugged his shirt over his head, tucking it deep into his laundry basket and covering it up with other dirty clothes as if he was burying evidence. He needed a shower.

Stripping the rest of his clothes off and turning on the shower, Stiles stepped into the tub and let the warm water hit his face. He liked to think this was the time to wash away all of his sins for the night, forget that he ever did such a thing and that he would go to sleep and tomorrow it would have all been a dream. He could go back to his shocking website of dead bodies and empty his balls until he was sated enough to sleep the night. He could go back to getting by with only his fantasies to lead the way.

Stepping out of the tub and wrapping a towel around his waist, Stiles entered his room and immediately felt like something was wrong. Nothing he could notice had been moved, window closed and latched like it was before, no figure lurking outside waiting to pounce and kill him for molesting their deceased uncle.

That’s when Stiles saw it.

The teenager had haphazardly thrown his phone onto his bed in the midst of stripping his clothes. There was a flashing light in the corner, like he had been given a text. Except, Scott would be asleep by now. His dad wouldn’t text him on patrol, especially not this late because he thought that his only son would be fast asleep like the good boy he prayed he would be. Swallowing thickly, Stiles picked up the phone and opened it up, going to his inbox and forgot how to breathe. It was by an unknown number, but it was obvious who had sent it. How did he get Stiles’ number? What was going to happen to him? Is there a one way ticket to Canada available tonight? There was ice in his veins, freezing his body to the spot and willing him to stare at the five words written out in a text.

**I know what you’ve done.**


End file.
